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User blog:Drix153/Misgivings of a Cleric Part III
*Misgivings of a Cleric Part III is the final installment of a trilogy revolving around Rosaline Haines and the Forinthry Ossuary. Reading through Part I and Part II will give you a better appreciation of the story below. Enjoy!* Planting her boot hard on the man's chest, Rosaline steadied her longsword and drove its point through his heart in one swift motion. His cries for mercy were cut short, only to be replaced by the soft sighing of his last breath. She watched as the life left his eyes and, once gone, wrenched the blade from his body. She felt neither pity nor remorse as she crouched and wiped the blood off her blade with a rag from the corpse. He and his buddy had thought her a frail maiden, she rationalized, and had likely planned to do far worse to her; the quick death they'd received was a mercy compared to what the idiots deserved, in her eyes anyway. While idiots they may have been, at least one of them had been well-armed: 'Big Idiot' had a mithril dagger on him, while 'Bigger Idiot' was stupid enough to believe that he could take her on with his bare hands. She'd taken the latter down easy enough, but 'Big Idiot' was faster than he looked and nicked her good a couple times before she finally caught him with a feint and back stroke. Normally, Rosaline would have simply rushed the pair of them; in fact, she'd been on the verge of doing just that when a tiny voice inside her head reminded her of why it was a pretty stupid idea. She was with child after all and, while some might say otherwise, Rosaline knew better than to risk so much against scumbags like them. Rosaline picked through the belongings of the two dead men once she'd seen to her injuries, few and small as they were. Judging from their gear, they were scavengers—more than a few were on the roads nowadays, especially this close to the Wilderness—and it came as no surprise they were here, of all places. No doubt the area had seen its fair share of the type with news of the Forinthry Ossuary's destruction spreading. Destroyed... ''Rosaline still balked at the thought, but the druid's letter had said as much. He had no reason to lie to her, as far as she knew. Of course, the notion that it was a fake had crossed her mind more than once. It worked were that the intention. But if someone was truly trying to lure her out of Falador, then surely there were easier ways to do so. Whatever the case may be, she would find her answer soon enough. Leaving the bodies were they lay, Rosaline walked back to her mule and tried to sooth the beast. It brayed nervously at the smell of blood but soon calmed, her soft coos apparently doing the trick. She considered herself lucky when she first bought the beast since most animals despised her for whatever reason and thus had named it 'Friend.' It dawned on her later how terrible she was at naming things: First, her blade Sharp, and then, Friend the mule. Rosaline had considered whether or not she shouldn't just call the baby 'Stinker' and get it over with, but that idea immediately soured. For all she knew her child might not make it, like her first so long ago... Rosaline angrily shoved her thoughts aside and gave Friend's reins a jerk. The dirt path she followed was mostly overgrown with weeds, roots, and their like. The sight of it reminded her of a promise she'd made during her time as High Clerist of the Followers of Zamorak's Opus, and later, as Seeker of the Hand of Ptolemos: To have the roads leading to the temple cleared and paved over to make reaching it easier. She'd never gone through with it, however, and that only made her angrier. ''Do I ever accomplish anything I set out to do? It seemed to her she rarely did and whenever she did something would invariably happen that rendered whatever it was a complete waste of time. Her former master's face suddenly swam before her eyes unbidden, causing her to recoil. Afterwards, she couldn't tell whether it was out of disgust or shock. It had made sense, though. How many times had she risked life and limb for him—and for what? She'd died in the end, only to be brought back against her will. She'd been grateful at first—pleased even—but now... Looking back, Rosaline found it difficult recalling why she'd been so eager to work for Ptolemos in the first place. She tried, really, but all she saw were those hard, red eyes that read of contempt and apathy.'' How could I have ever fallen for him?'' Someone who had failed to appreciate her... It was so unlike the man he could have been, the one locked away in some asylum, the one whose child she now carried. Guilt often gnawed at her heart because of that decision, but Rosaline knew it was for the best. How could I have taken care of him when I can barely take care of myself? Rosaline nearly tripped over a root, so involved in her thoughts she was. Scolding herself, she forced them down again for the time being. There were other matters to attend to, like not breaking an ankle while trying to reach the temple. She didn't have to worry long. Up ahead, under the shadows of an old oak tree, a crude sign she remembered from days past signified her destination was not too far off now. Only one mile left before the truth of Steven's letter would come out, for better or for worse. What an eyesore. ''What was left of the Forinthry Ossuary was little more than a gutted carcass of its former self. Rosaline barely recognized the place. Had the druid not been visible from where she stood she highly doubted she would have recognized it at all. But sure enough, there he was. He saw her immediately and waved her over. She cautiously moved forward, her eyes scanning the area while guiding Friend through the potentially dangerous debris that littered the ground everywhere they stepped. If this was indeed a trap, it was a pretty poor one. The flat ground the temple had been built on offered an extensive view of the surrounding valley around it. Then again, perhaps Steven wasn't as smart as she'd previously thought and was merely hoping she'd be stupid enough to fall for whatever trick he had planned. We'll see soon enough. He met her halfway, raising his hand in greeting. Now closer to him, Rosaline could see how haggard the druid looked. When she'd last seen him Steven had not a spot of hair on him. Now it was everywhere. A scraggly brown beard covered his jaw, while his long hair had more knots and tangles in it than she could count. He smelled, too, like he'd been bathing in mud and nothing else. Rosaline was surprised; he looked more like a druid than ever before. To his credit, Steven didn't try getting any closer than he should. Maybe he wasn't as stupid as she thought. They shared an awkward silence before he finally spoke up. "Got my letter, then?" he asked, wringing his hands, which made her think he was trying to wash something off them. How odd. "Yeah, I got it." She dug it out of a pocket and held it up for him to see. "So, you want to tell me what happened here?" Her question seemed to strike a nerve in Steven. He was visibly distressed, terrified even. "I... I did this," he gasped, his voice filled with agony and horror, as though he was finally realizing the consequences of his actions. Her forehead wrinkled with confusion as she stared at him, her incredulity plain as day. "You did this? What, by yourself?" Maybe she shouldn't act so surprised, but how in the world could a simple druid have done this kind of destruction by himself? No, there had to be more to it. He wasn't the kind of man who could do this, willingly or not, and live with it for the rest of his life. "You're lying." Steven looked on her in pain, his face expressing his grief more than mere words could ever do. "I did... I didn't mean for this! It was just a small pool, I didn't think it could have done this much damage!" He started to ramble on about things she didn't understand, something about a wisp or wasp. Rosaline quickly grew tired of listening to his nonsense and shut him up with a glare. "I don't have the time nor patience for this, Steven." She sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Whatever you did, it's done. You can't change that. So just—" "No!" Steven shouted, shaking his head wildly and tearing at his beard. "They're dead, all of them, because of me!" Rosaline snapped her mouth shut. Seeing the temple as it was now, it should have come as no surprise there would be no survivors. But surely someone made it out of whatever happened here alive. Over a hundred people had made this place their home, families and soldiers alike. She must have shown it on her face for Steven pointed away from the temple, towards a small clearing. "I moved them there, the ones I could find... I didn't want to leave them for the... things out here." "Okay." There was really nothing else she could say. Studying his face, Rosaline could see that no amount of talking could convince him that none of this was his fault. Perhaps it was. She didn't know and it was unlikely she ever would. But seeing the bodies was something she needed to do. An obligation, sort of, strange as it may sound. Without another word, she started picking her way through the stone and mortar strewn about the field. She wasn't sure what to feel yet. Elation? Grief? Some of these people had been her enemies, but many more were simply fools blinded by that bastard Alaric and his scheming. She found herself hoping his body was among the others, just for the satisfaction it would bring her. After several minutes of walking, she came upon a mass grave filled with bodies in various states of decomposition. The smell alone had her gagging and doubling over. Through her tears Rosaline made out faces she recognized: Malia and her young son Geoffry, Gauwill, who was affectionately titled 'the Fool' by the rest of his peers, old man Harles and his wife Kathel; and there, lying above them all, she noted, was Alaric Huang, his skin as smooth and unblemished in death as it had been in life. She made herself look upon his face, imagining whatever fate had befallen him was as cruel and twisted as he had been to her and Sacheverell. Behind her, Rosaline heard the slow footsteps of the druid as he followed after her. Good. He needed to come to terms with this. If what he said was true, then his life was about to get a lot harder. She knew; killing a man wasn't easy, let alone hundreds of people. She turned to him and offered her best sympathetic look she could muster. He stared back at her, uncertainty in his eyes. Perhaps he wanted her to hate him, maybe even punish him. Well, tough luck. He was going to have to get over it. Just as she had done before and still did, every damn day. "Steven," she began, her tone firm but not unkind. "What you're feeling right now, it's not going to go away anytime soon. You're going to hate yourself more than you thought humanly possible. It's not going to get easier, believe me..." Rosaline paused. She was never good with this kind of stuff, but he had to know that he wasn't alone in what he was going through. Maybe that fact alone would help. "You can't go on in life beating yourself up over this. But I need you to remember their faces, every single one, each night and every morning. Say their names, for their sake and yours, and remember them because you're never ever going forget them. Don't give them the chance to haunt you; people like us, we don't get that luxury. Not anymore." As she stood there watching Steven, she hoped her words got through to him. They shared a history together, and just maybe it was enough for him to heed her well. Rosaline didn't wait to see if he went through some kind of metamorphosis or whatever. Instead, she knelt and eased herself into the pit with the bodies. "What in the name of Guthix are you doing?" she heard Steven ask, his voice shaky. He sounded exhausted, no doubt drained by the day's events. She would be the same in his shoes; digging this hole and dragging the bodies here would have required no small amount of effort. Holding her breath, Rosaline looked over her shoulder at him and spoke with her eyes rather than her mouth, "Repaying a favor." That should give him plenty to think about. They left Alaric's body tied to one of the temple's battlements that had survived the collapse. Maybe the scavengers will see it and be scared off. Or perhaps the crows might see it and think it a gift from the gods. Rosaline didn't really care anymore. The other bodies they had set alight with some of the temple's pitch they found buried beneath the rubble. Black smoke rose as their bodies burned, filling the grounds with an acrid and nauseating smell. She tried not to think about their faces as they burned, but found it very hard not to. At least Steven seemed to be doing better. He'd wanted the bodies buried, but was convinced burning them would be better. A small blessing, truth be told. The thought of burying them left her head spinning and her arms trembling. Now they were situated near what once was the entrance to the Forinthry Ossuary. The great oaken double doors had fallen under the weight of its own supporting stones. Steven sat across from her, his eyes vacant. She'd chosen to split her supplies so they could be fill their bellies. The druid looked to have needed it, especially after what he went through. She was gnawing on a piece of salted pork when he spoke up. "I need to tell you something." She slowed her chewing and raised an eyebrow, indicating he should go on. "I didn't come here alone. Your friend Alorah is here, too, inside the temple." Her jaw froze, midbite. "What did you say?" He suddenly looked uncomfortable and began fidgeting with his hands. He never once looked her in the eyes. "She told me not to tell you. It was her who told me about the attack in the first place. She didn't want me to tell you, but I insisted. You had the right to know, considering..." He grimaced, the pain obvious. Her gaze remained fixated on him, hard and unyielding. "This place and those people, you're the one who put it all together. You deserved to know." She couldn't fault him there. Ever since Azulra's demons killed her brothers and sisters, and then kidnapped her, the place had become abandoned. Some rumors went as far as to suggest it was even haunted. But Rosaline needed a place to go after Ptolemos failed spectacularly in his plot to travel back in time, and to this day she'd still seen no ghosts within the temple walls. Who knows, that could change soon enough. She rose to her feet and retrieved Sharp from the place by her side. If Alorah was here, Rosaline was damned sure it meant something. Nothing happened without a reason, she'd come to learn, and she was going to find out why the horned bitch was here. Even if it meant a confrontation. "Steven, you need to leave. Now." To her surprise, the druid didn't object. He got up and slowly lifted his head to look her straight in the eyes. He didn't say it out loud, but she could hear the words nonetheless: You're welcome. When he was gone, Rosaline wondered if she'd ever see him again. Probably not. It's better this way, though. She silently wished the druid—Steven, she meant—luck before turning and eyeing the ruins of the temple before her. Alorah was in there somewhere. Waiting for her to storm in, sword raised and eyes aflame, no doubt. Well, she did do so hate to disappoint. Getting inside the temple proved easier than she initially thought. It was navigating the ruins that was the tricky part. Hardly any of the surviving halls were left unscathed by whatever Steven had done; most were blocked, preventing access to the inner chambers. Luckily, she knew the layout like the back of her hand, as well as a few secret passageways only a select few knew of. Most of them had fared better than the outer corridors, but as with the others, they each had their own share of damages. Rosaline had to backtrack and work her way around more than once, frustrating her and wasting more time she didn't have. The only good thing to come out of this was the silence. Since she'd lost part of her hearing in her right ear (her last 'gift' from Ptolemos), Rosaline made more of an effort listening with her left. Hopefully she wouldn't need it, but who knew what Alorah might try. Alorah. Outside, Steven had make the mistake of calling her friend. But a friend didn't lie to you, didn't force you to stab the man you loved, and say it was the will of a god. No, not just any god; the 'One True God.' She scowled as she recalled the hours they'd spent together gossiping and talking. They'd discussed shoes, dresses, and even religion. Not that she was ever convinced, but Alorah on the other hand... It was like talking to one of those birds her parents had bought for her when she was younger. 'One True God' this and 'One True God' that. She nearly bore her to death when they went out together, a rare thing since Alorah's horns made things awkward in public. Not like when she and Ptolemy spent time together. Spending her days with him reminded her of what it was like to be normal again. But then Alorah had to go and muck things up by taking them to Freneskae, ruining any chance she had of ever being normal again. Well, technically that wasn't true. Whatever happened on Freneskae also changed her from within. The day Rosaline felt her heart beating again, she actually cried. She could feel again; the wind on her face, the sand between her toes, and the pain of a cut or bruise. She was alive, truly alive, and that counted for something. But it didn't make forcing her to hurt Ptolemy any easier to forgive. Of course, when whatever he and Ptolemos were grew ill after returning home, Alorah did offer her knowledge and aid, alongside Arachnea. They both helped her even though it would have been easier for them to ignore her completely. Gods, things were so complicated now... Feeling short of breath, Rosaline stopped to rest for a few minutes. She needed to straighten out her thoughts anyhow. Confronting Alorah was clearly not the right thing to do, even if it felt like it. The last time they met Alorah made it clear the two were even. Rosaline hated to admit it, but she was right. Alorah had helped her when she needed it most. But why, then, was she having such a hard time calling Alorah an ally? Because she wasn't, that's why. Just like her father and the rest, Alorah had used Rosaline before discarding her like a broken tool. She frowned, her grip on Sharp tightening. Like it or not, Alorah was nor had she ever been her friend. No way in hell was she going to walk in and expect otherwise. It was hard to accept that, even now, but when was life ever easy for her? Never, and she meant to keep it that way no matter what. Anything else was no life at all. At least, that's what Rosaline kept telling herself as she starting moving forward again, Sharp held close by her side. Dusk had fallen by the time Rosaline found Alorah, or so she judged. There wasn't much sunlight getting through the cracks and crevices of the library's walls, but it was enough to see by. Alorah didn't seem aware of her arrival yet, allowing Rosaline to study the room they were in. It was an unfamiliar area; she'd never had much time for reading, expect on those rare occasions where she'd decided enough was enough and slipped away to escape her responsibilities as Seeker, if only for a little while. Nonetheless, she considered herself lucky to be one of the few that was well read in some of the more occult literature here in the temple. On the other hand, her friend Sacheverell had spent many hours in this very room, sifting through the ancient dusty tomes. He'd sought to use their information for 'the benefit of the order,' she recalled him saying once. A part of her wondered if the half-icyene ever got around to it before that bastard Alaric poisoned him. She supposed it didn't really matter, in the end. "Are you lost, my friend?" Hearing the question, Rosaline stiffened. Cursing herself for letting her guard down, she turned her eyes on Alorah. It was easy enough to see the woman's face and those milky white eyes staring into her own. She felt naked under her scrutiny, but the sensation passed quickly. It was Alorah's own doing that led to her losing her eyesight, she knew. Besides, she seemed to be faring well enough as a blind halfbreed. In their last meeting, it was made pretty clear that she could see well enough without her eyesight. If that hadn't of been the case, Rosaline might have felt sorry for her. No, scratch that. She wouldn't have. Scowling, Rosaline kept her mouth shut and returned her gaze with an icy one of her own. "No, I suppose not, then." If this upset Alorah, she didn't show it. In fact, she seemed amused by it. When Rosaline did speak, she struggled to keep her tone even and calm, but didn't succeed as much as she'd hoped. "Why are you here?" In response, Alorah lifted a cupped hand and muttered something into it. Suddenly the room was alight with a thousand colors. Rosaline, unable to see, cut through the area in front of her with Sharp. She felt her blade impact something solid and retreated a few steps, blinking all the while to clear her vision. In time, she could finally see again and looked upon what she'd struck. One of the shelves beside her had a shallow gouge in it from where she'd hit it. On the opposite side of the room stood Alorah, a smile splayed across her face. "You missed." Rosaline ignored her and instead raised her sword threateningly, noticing then the small orb of light floating lazily above them. It kept the room lit even as night descended outside. "If you try anything, I ''will kill you." This only made Alorah smile harder as though Rosaline had shared a private joke with her. She retrieved from one of the bookshelves near her a yellowed scroll and began to study it with interest. "What makes you think I'd let you do that?" Her voice was mild, playful almost. It reminded Rosaline of when her caretakers would address her when she was a child; never taken seriously and heard, more often that not, as a background noise rather than a human being. It made her angry. She wanted more than anything to rush her then and there, to shove Sharp through her and watch as the smile died on her lips. She kept herself in check, though; having seen firsthand how Alorah fought, Rosaline knew charging her in a confined space like this would see her dead within seconds. So instead, Rosaline lowered her longsword a few inches and closed her eyes. She was calmer by the time she opened them. "Well, this a pleasant change. I see you're taking the concept of motherhood to heart." Surprised, it was only through effort that Rosaline kept her mouth from dropping open. "What did you say?" She felt strange hearing those words from someone, especially Alorah. How could she have known? Unless she'd been watching her somehow. Only her brother Richie knew, as far as she was aware, and that was because he'd allowed her to stay with him while she was in Varrock. He would have found out eventually, so she'd been forthcoming with her. He deserved that much. The news brought about an unexpected change in her younger brother. He'd never been the same after losing Don to the vampyres. Upon learning he was going to be an uncle, though, Richie had almost seemed like his old self again. They'd celebrated in their own way, and it was only to him did she express her doubt and insecurities. But Richie had none of it. They were young again, it seemed, and from her younger brother Rosaline found solace and a peace of mind she hadn't known for a very long time. If only she could go back again... "I may be blind but my lord gifted me a new sight of sorts through an acquaintance of ours." Judging from the emphasis she placed on the word 'acquaintance,' Rosaline figured Alorah was toying with her now. It was obvious who she meant: Arachnea. Summing up the history they shared would take weeks, so in the sake of saving herself the time, Rosaline officially labeled it 'complicated' in her head and left it at that. True, the mysterious and reliably infuriating Mahjarrat had come through for her in the end, but even then Rosaline couldn't help but wonder if Arachnea had some kind of ulterior motive for everything she did. Without a doubt. Would she ever know what it was? Nope, and she couldn't care less. She'd had her fill of Mahjarrat that would last her a lifetime. They were the source of all her troubles. Eventually, they'd go extinct, she figured. That gave her some sense of satisfaction, although by then she'd probably be dead too. If she was lucky, Arachnea would be the first to go. Big if. "It won't be easy, you know. I've seen women driven mad by one child alone, but two? You're going to have your hands full when they're born." Laughter followed, as well as more words, but Rosaline didn't hear any of it. Her shocked expression must have been obvious as Alorah was looking at her with concern. Suddenly, the earth shifted beneath her and she felt herself falling. Fortunately, something caught her before she hit the ground. She turned her head and saw Alorah helping her to her feet. "Are you okay?" Rosaline wanted to say yes, but her mouth wasn't working. Alorah's eyes went wide with sudden realization. "Oh... I thought you knew." The room felt like it was spinning. Was she shaking her head? Rosaline felt hands steadying her again. A voice starting speaking, its words coming from far away over a rush that sounded like the sea in a storm. "It'll be okay, you'll see. You and I know firsthand how much our world has been torn, wounded. It's people like us who are left to endure pain and suffering beyond imagining. I know we've had our share of differences and I know you don't trust me. You may even hate me. But I swear, I'm not your enemy here. I only wanted to guide you to a better place, you and my father." Something brushed the back of Rosaline's neck. It was a cold sensation, something she'd felt before. It was when she flew here on the back of the griffin Skelkesh, right before they were shot down by Alaric's men. Not only that, but she vaguely recalled words from the journal of her once leader Fykeric Bliem, the previous High Clerist of their Zamorakian monastic order. He'd written about having felt similar sensations during moments of unease... Did he feel it too the moment she plunged the knife right into his heart? Suddenly, Rosaline felt very afraid. Alorah droned on, her words only barely acknowledged by her. "What I did to you, to him, on Freneskae...it was wrong of me. I realize that now. Losing my eyesight was punishment. But I've regained His favor. I came here to learn more about His teachings, not to antagonize you. This temple was once a place of worship for the One True God. It's filled with His knowledge, transcribed by the ancient and wise priests in His name. Steven guided me here, but now I know I was brought here for a purpose. For you." Rosaline was gradually regaining her footing and balance. She could hear Alorah better now and was watching her with wide, wary eyes. Her own blind eyes were brimmed with tears brought on by her faith. "We can start again, us two. I can show you His wisdom, His plans. I'll even speak to Arachnea on your behalf. There is so much to be done, but there are others like us. Brothers and sisters of His faith. If we work together, we can rebuild His empire, make it whole again. Just like it was before the wars. And when He returns, we will be safe. We can have a home, Rosaline." "Your children will have a home." Something in Rosaline's head snapped. She felt eerily calm even as a sudden rage engulfed her. Her fear was gone. In its place was the color red. Everything was red. She heard a scream, a shout, and felt hands on her. Something shoved her away, some kind of magical force. She still saw red, but Alorah was there, too. She looked shocked, angry, and hurt. Scratches covered her face, deep enough to have drawn blood. She didn't need to look to see the blood on her own hands. Instead, she found herself racing across the room. Alorah lifted her arm and ozone filled the air. But Rosaline was too fast; she seized her arm and jerked it away from her. A bolt of conjured lightning arced out from Alorah's palm, striking a bookcase and setting it on fire. Even as the peal of thunder rang out in the library, Rosaline heard herself speak the words "Teuthis ibke pulli" as she and Alorah fell, both tumbling between two shelves. Her words had done the trick. They both went through the portal summoned by the magical incantation Ptolemos had created and found themselves in his underground lair, far beneath the Forinthry Ossuary. It, too, had not gone through the devastation brought on by Steven unscathed; a portion of the ceiling had caved in, filling one corner of the room with dirt and burying some of his notes with it. Both women grappled for a moment as they fell through the archway. Somehow they ended up tripping and falling forward. Rosaline kept her grip on Alorah as they flew down the stairs. When a crack rang out, she knew she had her chance. Alorah's head had struck the stone tiles below them, dazing her. The two were caught in a grappling contest. They tore, bit, and scratched at each other as they fought for their lives. Slowly but surely, Rosaline was able to pin the stunned Alorah to the ground. While straddling her, she caught hold around her throat with both hands and started to squeeze. Meanwhile, Alorah used her own hands, scratching and trying to pry her hands away. One hand lit up in flames, unleashing a gout of fire that seared Rosaline's skin and sent pain jolting through her. It took nearly all she had to pin the arm down with a knee, noting out of the corner of her eye that Ptolemos' notes were going up in flames. She was too busy struggling for her life to care, however, her mind still reeling from the rage that took hold of her earlier. Just then Rosaline felt something in her head; not unlike a migraine, it was a pressure behind her eyes that started to intensify until it felt like her head might split in two. Still, she kept squeezing, even as one of Alorah's hands came up to tear her face. Her jaw snapped down over the desperate fingers clawing for a purchase. She bit, harder, until blood filled her mouth. Feeling the pressure behind her eyes lessen, Rosaline jerked her head back, taking a few fingers with her. Instantly, the sensation disappeared, replaced by a choked cry of agony. She didn't give much thought to it as she spit out the blood and fingers, her attention fixated on the woman beneath her. Her grip tightened, not letting up, even as she told herself to let go. She watched through a haze of red as Alorah's bloodshot and watery eyes pleaded for mercy. But she couldn't let go...and then it was over. Alorah's hands slackened and her body sagged. A vacant stare looked up and past Rosaline, going through the ceiling, the earth, and into the last and only thing the dying ever see. Rosaline rolled off of her, shaking all over as she began to sob. Knowing she had little time left, Rosaline scavenged what she could from Ptolemos' lair before she left it to the fire. She couldn't find Ptolemos there and assumed he had either managed to break free and fled or something else had gotten to him. She wasn't sure which she wanted more. Repeating the words, Rosaline left through the portal and back into the temple's library, where a small fire was slowly spreading as well. Taking a few tomes and leaving the rest, she made her way back through the temple as best she could with her injuries. Sharp was back by her side, a comforting presence even though she didn't have the energy left to use it. She'd used up all her strength when she lost control and killed Alorah. She regretted it now, but already knew it was too late for that. Alorah's last words had scared her, drawing out the reason why she'd been tense and agitated after learning of her presence within the temple. The world was truly in danger. The gods were no joke. Even though the 'One True God' might be dead, gone, or returned already, those like Alorah could be just as dangerous as their favored deities. Fanatics, zealots, and extremists hell-bent on achieving greatness for their gods and themselves. So what did that make her? Rosaline shuddered at the implication but was already coming to terms with it. Unfortunately for her, Alorah's absence would be noticed by her peers sooner or later. They'd find her body, maybe even connect two and two together. It wasn't exactly science or anything. They'd know it was her and they'd want blood for blood. Or maybe they wouldn't. Maybe she was just being paranoid. Alorah's body would be consumed by the fires, right? Even so... Well, it was too late now. If they didn't look for her, good. But if they did come, they would not find her wanting. She found Friend waiting for her outside, oblivious to everything that had occurred inside. She unloaded everything she'd taken with her from the temple and onto the mule, and then hugged it closely. She was scared, truly, but her life had led up to this point. Ptolemos, the other Mahjarrat, even the time she'd shared with Richie and Ptolemy. These were the things that'd trained her, prepared her, and reminded her of what it was she was fighting for. And maybe, just maybe, she might just pull it off. After all, Rosaline already carried the two best motivations in the world with her. Category:Blog posts